


space for us

by bluelines



Category: Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/F, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 12:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18623449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelines/pseuds/bluelines
Summary: Meghan and Gillian's wedding makes Marie rethink things.





	space for us

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the last time I try fix-it with this mess, lol.

Kacey looks radiant.

There’s not really any other word for it. It’s the first time that Marie can remember seeing Kacey at a formal event with her hair up. She must have let someone put it in a nice bun. Marie knows there’s probably a specific word for it, but she doesn’t know it, in English or otherwise. 

Before the wedding there isn’t time for Marie to say hello to her, because Kacey is in the wedding party and Marie is just in the seats, hands clasped in her lap, feeling simultaneously overdressed and underdressed. She still hates wearing makeup. When Meghan comes down the aisle, at least half of them are crying, including the entire wedding party. Marie doesn’t cry, but she watches Kacey cry, and it hollows out a space behind her breastbone that terrifies her.

Something fits there and she thinks she knows what. 

They’ve been talking. It started with a phone call, that ended without yelling or hanging up for the first time in months. It started with Worlds, with Kacey hanging around after the game still in her pads like she needed the protection. Marie had only barely avoided whatever it was Kacey was ready to throw at her. An apology, maybe. That would have made things worse. The least thing that Marie wanted was an apology after two goals like _that_. Now, though--she might accept an apology in person, now. Kacey has said it enough times over the phone. They both have.

It’s a weird space to be in. Marie watches the wedding and spends a lot of the time wondering what she should do when she says hello to Kacey. She should be watching Meghan or Gillian, who are both stunning and glowing with the kind of happiness that Marie really can’t imagine experiencing herself, but her eyes always wander back to Kacey. The bridesmaids dresses are pale blue and Kacey is tan from a summer spent outside. From her seat, Marie can just barely make out the scattered freckles along Kacey’s arms and shoulders. She wonders who decided to make the bridesmaids’ dresses strapless.

She tears her eyes back to the couple when they say their vows, but she’s trying not to hear everything, all the sincere and teary promises of a life together. They seem so sure about it. They’ve always seemed that sure about it, as far as Marie can remember, as if they looked at each other and knew immediately that they were done looking. She had not been looking for anyone or anything when Kacey had shown up in her life. All she can remember from the first time she met Kacey off the ice is that Kacey’s hand was freezing when she took it to shake.

Kacey would hate that, probably. She’s always been more romantic. Marie would not be in any way surprised if Kacey could remember every detail, down to the colors they were wearing, the day of the week, the time. 

On her way back down the aisle, following the processional out, Kacey makes glancing eye contact with Marie, who smiles awkwardly at her. Maries eyes get caught on the bouquet that Kacey’s holding with both hands, and the spot where Kacey used to wear her ring, on her right hand. There’s no ring. Of course there isn’t. She isn’t wearing hers, either, although she did travel with it. She doesn’t like having it far away from her, in case she decides she wants it on her finger again. Considering that she’s more or less certain Kacey would describe their split as Marie dumping her, she’s not sure why she bothers, but she does. The ring is in her toiletry bag, wrapped in tissue paper, waiting for something.

-

Meghan and Gillian’s first dance is what makes Marie cry.

The vows didn’t do it, but the dance is too much for her, the sweep of Meghan’s dress when she swoops into Gillian’s arms and the swell of the music while everyone watches them. She’s watching them so closely that it takes her a few seconds to realize that Kacey has noticed her, and they make eye contact again, before Kacey turns her eyes to the dance floor. She’s not crying. It’s funny, the different things that touch them. 

They were supposed to dance. Marie can remember vividly the first time they brought it up, just after Meghan and Gillian got engaged. It was hot and Kacey’s bedroom window was open, so that every so often they’d get a sticky summer breeze, better than nothing. 

“We’ll dance at their wedding,” Kacey had said, because that was the sort of thing she thought about. Marie thought about nothing when she was lying with Kacey like that. It was one of the only times she didn’t have to.

“I have two left feet,” Marie had said, but the image of them dancing had stuck with her. People are starting to join the couple on the floor now, and Marie isn’t sure what to do. She elects to turn away from the dancing and pretend that it isn’t happening. It seems like the safest bet. 

Marie ends up finding her way to the bar. She’s more surprised to find herself there than she is that Kacey finds her, too.

“Hi,” Kacey says, but she’s using her polite voice, with a veneer of insecurity that Marie hasn’t heard in forever, at least not directed at her.

“Hey,” Marie says back, because she’s not sure what else to say. She hates this version of them, but not as much as she hated being unable to speak to Kacey at all. Neither of them speaks for a while. From the bar they can still see the dance floor, and Marie watches Meghan drag her mother onto the dance floor before Kacey finally speaks again. 

“I have your ring,” she says, “if you want it.”

Marie feels immediately and startlingly sick. She wants to think it’s the wine cooler, but she knows better.

“I don’t want it,” she replies, trying to keep her voice steady, “it was a gift.”

Kacey is quiet for a few more seconds. Marie tries not to look at her, but she fails. Kacey doesn’t really know how to sit in a dress, and she’s leaning on the bar like she would in her normal clothes. It’s endearing that she seems so out of place, but Marie can’t help thinking about the universe they’re supposed to be living in, one where they’re sharing a drink in anticipation of going back out to dance some more, one with Kacey’s arm draped across the back of her chair.

“I don’t get you,” Kacey says. Marie somehow manages to keep from responding immediately. She drains the rest of her wine cooler, which she would normally not do, and feels sicker again. She hopes she can make herself sick enough to have to leave. 

“I don't know what you mean,” Marie says. Her accent always gets thick like this, when she's drinking. Drunk. She's drunk by now. Not much, not as much as that time she drank a half a bottle of wine and then a beer and Kacey held her hair back--

Every memory is like that. Kacey seeps into all of them somehow. She's looking at Marie now like they're strangers, or like Marie is one of those people you might see on public transportation crying or snoring or otherwise embarrassing themselves. Marie feels embarrassing. 

“You're acting like,” Kacey starts, and then seems to decide it's not worth it. She taps her fingers against the bar and watches Meghan and Gillian for a while. Marie wants to tell her to leave if she's not going to say anything, but she doesn't want to open her mouth. Kacey can probably tell she's had enough to feel sick. A few months ago she’d be getting Marie a water without even having to ask. 

“You're sitting here like this isn't what you wanted,” Kacey says. She's still looking away, so Marie stares at her. If Kacey is going to treat her like she's being embarrassing, someone to pity who doesn't know their social graces, she can play that part. There's a sheen of chapstick on Kacey’s lips and Marie knows that if she could pull them between her teeth they'd taste like strawberry. 

“We were supposed to be dancing,” is what she says. 

Kacey finally looks at her again. She gapes for a second like Marie has just said something completely shocking. Marie wonders if Kacey forgot, but she hasn't, obviously. She doesn't forget anything. 

“If you wanted to dance with me you wouldn't have called me and told me our relationship was too heavy for you,” Kacey says. Like it's nothing, like it's a fact in the encyclopedia. Marie knows she didn't say it like that. She can distinctly remember having to say it twice because she was crying. Either way it seems unfair, after apologies, after deciding to be diplomatic, to have her words thrown in her face. It strikes Marie as distinctly un-diplomatic. 

“Look,” Kacey says, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this here. We said we weren’t going to.”

“You brought it up,” Marie says, and she knows exactly how childish she sounds. Kacey’s fingers twitch against the counter again. She chews her lips and then she shrugs. She looks like she’s about to get up and leave, and Marie panics, her skittish stomach forgotten.

“I thought _you_ wanted this,” she blurts. 

Kacey still isn’t looking at her. She smiles suddenly, and Marie is so surprised that she has to look where Kacey is looking. It’s not at all surprising to find that Kacey is grinning at Meghan, who is standing at the edge of the dance floor beckoning to Kacey. 

“Dance with me, then,” Kacey says.

“I’m drunk,” Marie announces.

“Yeah,” Kacey says, “I know, it’s okay. Come dance.”

-

It’s not exactly how Marie imagined it would be. They both kick their heels off and stash them at the bar before they dance, so Kacey is barely taller. For a few seconds it’s awkward, Marie following Kacey to the floor like she’s in trouble, but once they’re there, with people watching them, Kacey makes it look as if she’s enjoying herself.

She’s doing it for Meghan. Marie knows it, and she tries to remind herself of it, but she still gets a flutter in her stomach when Kacey reaches for her. It would be easy to pretend that this is real. And isn’t it? Isn’t the way their hands fit together, the way Kacey pulls her in, the way their cheeks brush all real? 

Kacey places her other hand on Marie’s lower back. Marie rests hers on Kacey’s shoulder, and for the second time wonders why anyone thought strapless bridesmaid dresses were a good idea. Kacey is warm and solid and the alcohol makes everything into long watercolor strokes, from the warm light of the lanterns strung along the beams in the ceiling to the blues and whites and blacks and reds of everyone else’s outfits. 

“You drive me crazy,” Kacey says. It’s not the same voice she was using before. For a moment Marie is confused, because Meghan can’t hear them, so there’s no reason for Kacey to fake any fondness for her. When she realizes that Kacey is saying it fondly because she feels it that way, she stumbles a little, and Kacey’s hand on her lower back is what steadies her.

“You seemed so over it,” Marie murmurs. 

“I’m obviously not over it,” Kacey says, squeezing Marie’s hand.

“Before,” Marie says, “that’s why--I felt like you were over it, like you had your own life and you didn’t need me.” 

She always babbles when she’s tipsy, but especially now, without having to make eye contact, with Kacey almost pressed against her.

“And trying to,” she searches for the words, but Kacey doesn’t interrupt her; a habit built by years of waiting patiently while Marie combed through two languages to find what she wanted to say. 

“Trying to find a way to make myself a part of that life you had was exhausting,” Marie says. “You kept saying I needed my own life too. In Montreal. And that felt--it sounded very separate. So I thought you wanted it to be.”

Kacey thinks about it for a while. Marie makes eye contact with Gillian over Kacey’s shoulder and beams, or at least she hopes that's what her face does. She's afraid that it came out as more of a grimace until Gillian smiles back at her and gives her a thumbs up. She wonders how she looks. There's no doubt in her mind that she's bright red, if not from Kacey then from the alcohol. 

“I thought you wanted it like that,” Kacey admits. “I thought when you moved you wanted things separate. I didn't want to hold you back. I felt like I was.”

Marie can't help but laugh. It sounds so exactly like what she had said. One miscommunication, one assumption, and five years down the drain. It's ridiculous. They're ridiculous. Kacey loosens her grip on Marie, but Marie doesn't follow suit. 

“This is so stupid,” she says. Kacey pushes air through her nose. Her grown-up laugh. 

“I wanted you to stay,” Kacey admits, “in Boston.” Her breath is hot against Marie’s cheek. She focuses on that so that she won't cry or laugh again. 

“I wanted you to come with me,” she replies. 

Kacey’s fingers shift against hers. 

“You could have asked. I would have gone.”

Kacey would have gone with her. Kacey would have moved with her, to Montreal, if only Marie had been brave enough to ask. But of course she would have. Transplanting herself right before the Olympics for Marie would have been a very Kacey thing to do. Marie can only tell now, in hindsight, that Kacey would have done anything for her. It hits her so hard that she's nearly crying again, thinking about the enormity of Kacey’s love for her and how she had thrown it away. 

But she can be brave now. Even if chances are she's too late. 

“We could try again,” Marie says. “We could try it, after the Olympics.”

It's not that long of a wait. Marie would've waited another Olympics cycle if Kacey asked, but she knows--has known--that Kacey will want to get married soon. Another thing she wasn't brave enough to ask. It just seemed impossible, her buying a ring and proposing to someone, even Kacey. It still sort of does. But then ten minutes ago, Kacey dancing with her had seemed impossible, too. 

She's terrified to hear Kacey say no. At the same time, she has a feeling it's what she deserves. This might be the last time she gets to be this close to Kacey at all, and she tries to hold onto it, even while the song is ending. Kacey doesn't answer her, just presses her nose to Marie’s cheek, and Marie can feel it all falling away from her, everything but that moment, that tiny intimate gesture, the most important gesture in the world, or at least in hers. 

And then Kacey lets go of her. 

She's blinking too many times, like she might cry, too, but it's Meghan and Gillian's wedding. They can't cry here, and Kacey doesn't, in the end. 

“Don't go to the after party,” Kacey says. “Come find me instead.”

-

Marie spends the rest of the night frozen in anticipation. She hangs out with her teammates and her friends, but she keeps stealing glances at Kacey. For all anyone can tell, they're just amicable ex-girlfriends. For all Marie knows, that's all they are, and Kacey just wanted to wait until after the wedding, like they had agreed to do beforehand. But Marie can't shake the feeling that isn't the case. She keeps remembering the press of Kacey’s nose to her cheek. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing Kacey would do if she was gearing up for let Marie down. 

Unless it was the last moment before she let go. 

Toward the end of the night, Meghan has her sister and her sister in law on the dance floor, and Gillian joins Marie to watch them. Her face is so open and unguarded that Marie can see the depth of Gillian’s feelings for Meghan written all over it. She's happier and more content than Marie has ever seen anyone in her life. She tries to imagine herself at her own wedding feeling like that, but her brain stalls out at imagining Kacey in a wedding dress, a what-if with blanks she can't fill in. 

Gillian notices her staring. For the second time that night Marie feels embarrassing. 

“Thank you for coming,” Gillian says, slipping an arm around Marie’s shoulders. Marie feels bland and sad in comparison, sitting this close to someone whose life is so right. 

“Of course,” Marie says, “I would never have missed it.”

“It means a lot to me,” Gillian insists, and her tone changes so that Marie knows she’s talking about Kacey. “I hope it's been fun for you too.”

“Definitely,” Marie says, but she's aware of how fake she sounds so she tries to sound more sincere when she adds, “I'm really happy for you. Both of you, I mean.”

Gillian leaves it for a few seconds. Then she clears her throat. 

“You guys seemed okay,” she says. She's fishing for information, but Marie can't blame her. She doesn't want Gillian to have to think about it. 

“She doesn't hate me anymore,” Marie agrees, and Gillian smiles. 

“It's not really my place to say,” Gillian says, “but I know--I mean, watching you guys, there's something there still.”

“I know,” Marie says, and Gillian drops it. She's still watching Meghan sing and dance with her family, and her face has gone back to how it was before. 

“I still can't believe I'm here doing this,” Gillian says, “and it's been hours.”

“Getting married?” Marie asks. 

“It never seemed like a real thing,” Gillian says. “It still doesn't. I'll probably wake up every day in total shock that this is my life. But I guess I've stopped questioning it.”

It sounds a lot like how Marie feels. She had always thought that being unable to believe her luck meant that she didn't deserve it. Gillian doesn't seemed at all worried about whether or not she deserves this. Marie isn't sure whether or not anyone could ever deserve someone like Kacey. 

“Looks like they're about to kick us out of here,” Gillian laughs, watching Meghan try to charm the staff into letting them have another song. 

“Go,” Marie says, pushing her arm, “go dance with her one more time, they won't kick you both out.”

And Gillian goes. Marie watches her pull Meghan close to dance again, but it's the kind of moment that should just be the two of them, and it seems like everyone can tell. Marie catches one last good look at them before she follows the crowd outside. 

-

She doesn't find Kacey. Kacey finds her. 

There are a series of benches outside, and the hotel where everyone--or at least most people--were encouraged to stay at is walkable. Marie is a little bit lost when Kacey touches her elbow, but she turns immediately, and Kacey withdraws her hand. In the semi-darkness it’s harder to read Kacey’s face.

“Will you walk with me?” Kacey asks, and Marie’s entire body is on edge with anticipation. This is it, whatever ‘it’ is. She’s about to find out either way. They walk for a little while without either of them speaking. The path between the trees and benches is lit, sort of, but not enough. There are still people on it, too, walking toward the hotel, laughing and joking around. They’ll probably set themselves up at the bar in the hotel for the afterparty, if there even is one. Marie hadn’t bothered to pay attention. She knew this was where she would be.

“You really hurt me,” Kacey says, quietly. Marie swallows hard against the apology that’s lodged in her throat, because she’s already said it, and Kacey doesn’t sound like she’s finished.

“I don’t want to do that again,” Kacey sys, “go through that, whatever it was. I’m too old for that. I can’t have you hurt me like that again. I need to know, if we were going to try again, that it would be something you took really seriously. We’d have to talk about what we were doing. Where we were headed.”

Marie thinks about the way Gillian had looked at Meghan on the dance floor and wants to say that she knows exactly where they’re headed, but she doesn’t. 

“I understand,” she says instead, because she does. She was stupid and reckless to let a miscommunication convince her they were done. She can remember being there, but she can’t remember how she _got_ there, logically, not with Kacey right next to her, the backs of their hands brushing while they walk.

“I’m serious,” Marie adds, when Kacey doesn’t say anything. She stops walking and Kacey stops, too, but when they make eye contact it’s like every hair on Marie’s body is standing on end.

“I’m serious about you,” she says. “I don’t know if I can ever apologize right, or make it up to you, but I’ll try. I’ll try until you tell me to stop.”

Kacey seems unsure, still, and Marie is desperate to pull them back from whatever edge they’re standing up against. She reaches for Kacey’s hands and squeezes them, maybe a little bit too hard.

“I’m serious,” she says, “I’ll do anything. I’d do anything. If we ever fight like that again I’ll fly right to you. I’ll skip games. I’ll cancel camps. Anything.”

“Marie,” Kacey breaks in, “if you’re serious about this, we--you won’t have to fly anywhere. If you’re really serious and you want me I’ll move. After the Olympics.”

“I should have asked you,” Marie blurts.

“So ask me now,” Kacey says. Marie is almost on the verge of tears, so it takes her a few seconds to collect herself. This time it’s Kacey’s turn to squeeze _her_ hands, and Marie wonders, vaguely, what they look like to anyone who can see them from further off. The crowd is mostly gone by now, anyway. And for the first time since she can remember, she doesn’t care either way.

“Will you come home with me?” she asks, and it means more than one thing. She knows that Kacey knows it. Marie doesn’t want to imagine spending tonight alone. Kacey opens her mouth to answer, but instead she ends up reaching for Marie, pulling her in with a hand on the back of her neck to kiss her.

-

Kacey holds her hand all the way to the hotel. Marie is glad she shelled out for a single room when she stops to think about it. They haven’t said anything else, and it’s a combination of anticipation and relief that has kept them both quiet. Marie feels like they’ve forgotten how to do this. She can remember a time that the door would barely have closed behind them before Kacey’s lips were on hers. Now they stand in the empty room and for a second Marie is afraid that nothing will happen at all.

Then Kacey turns on the light. 

“I want to see you,” she says, and the statement shoots right down Marie’s spine to settle between her legs before Kacey has even made a move to touch her.

Kacey reaches behind her back to the zipper of her dress, but Marie almost trips over herself in her haste to do it herself. She kicks off her heels and moves around behind Kacey’s back. She reaches for the zipper of Kacey’s dress with one hand, steadying herself with the other on Kacey’s waist. After she’s uncovered an inch of skin she drops a kiss there, in between Kacey’s shoulderblades, and then she tugs the zipper the rest of the way down.

The dress doesn’t fall down on its own. Marie slides a hand inside it, around to Kacey’s stomach, and Kacey moves just enough for the dress to pool at her feet. She hadn’t worn a bra underneath it--a strapless bra would have been too much trouble, and in any case unnecessary--so she’s instantly cold enough to goosebump. With the light on Marie can see every individual freckle on Kacey’s back and shoulders. She mouths along the back of Kacey’s neck and slides her hand up Kacey’s stomach, her thumb just brushing the underside of Kacey’s breast before she pulls her hand back. She wants to see Kacey, too.

Kacey spins to face her, and Marie is only able to kiss her for a few seconds before Kacey is reaching around to unzip Marie’s dress, too. There’s no ceremony, just Marie stepping out of her dress and Kacey staring at her. She hesitates for a second, just long enough for Marie to bend herself forward and kiss Kacey’s chest, her collarbones, and her shoulders. Kacey holds onto Marie by the elbows, but she’s in no hurry to move, and Marie ends up bent double trying to kiss as much of Kacey’s skin as possible. That’s how she winds up sinking slowly to her knees at Kacey’s feet, with her lips trailing along Kacey’s stomach, her hands on Kacey’s hips.

She looks up and her heart is in her throat. Marie is willing to stay on her knees all night, with this view and Kacey’s hands on her shoulders, but a series of conflicting emotions cross Kacey’s face ending in resolve, and she tugs Marie to her feet.

“No,” she says, quietly, and that’s all that it takes.

Marie wraps her arms around Kacey and kisses her properly, deeply, and it goes on forever but it’s over too soon. She reaches up to tug Kacey’s hair loose from the perfect bun and almost feels bad ruining it before she pulls back far enough to see the way that Kacey’s hair falls. Kacey pushes her gently but insistently back toward the bed, and Marie doesn’t argue. She slips out of her bra and Kacey follows her, kneeling next to her on the hotel mattress. 

With her hair down, in nothing but her underwear, tan and toned and dusted with freckles, Kacey is the most beautiful thing Marie has ever seen. Usually she keeps that to herself, trusting that she can get it across with her lips and her hands. She hates talking. But Kacey should hear it. 

“You're so beautiful,” Marie murmurs, and then they're both blushing furiously. 

Kacey tucks her hair over one shoulder and leans down to kiss Marie, who is immensely grateful to have something to do with her mouth other than embarrass both of them. Kacey’s mouth is soft and warm and inviting, not like the tentative, hurt kisses from before. Kacey forgives her. Marie can taste it. She winds an arm around Kacey’s strong shoulders and swipes her tongue along Kacey’s lower lip just to make sure she was right about the strawberry chapstick. 

Kacey maneuvers to kneel between Marie’s legs without breaking the kiss. When she’s where she wants to be she bears down on Marie so that their upper bodies are flush and Marie can feel everything from the smooth plane of Kacey’s stomach to her heartbeat beating in her chest. Kacey has one hand on the bed to brace herself, but with the other she's trailing her fingertips along Marie’s collar, thumb dipping into the hollow of her collarbone before she palms Marie’s breast. Marie can't hold back a quiet sound that isn't quite a moan, but it's muffled by Kacey, who takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

Kacey has gotten her off like this before, just touching her like this. Marie hadn't even taken her jeans off. She’d been young then, but she can still remember everything about it, from the weak sunlight filtering through her dorm blinds to the heat of Kacey’s mouth on her breasts and the way that Kacey had looked up at her, mixed awe and excitement. Nobody had ever looked at Marie like that before. She doesn't want to imagine anyone else looking at her like that. 

It's as if Kacey reads her mind. She breaks the kiss, swiping with her thumb until Marie properly moans, and then she drops her head to press her nose against Marie’s cheek like she had on the dance floor. 

“Why did I ever think I could live without this?” Kacey asks out loud, and Marie is suddenly too breathless to make any sound at all. It hits her so hard that for a moment she thinks she’s hit the edge, out of nowhere, but that isn't what the trembling is. She clutches at Kacey’s shoulder with one hand, fumbling for Kacey’s hip with the other, and tries to hide the tears that are going to come whether she likes it or not. She doesn't want to cry. She doesn't want Kacey to have to see her cry, to be concerned. Most of all, Marie doesn't want Kacey to stop.

But she doesn't. When she notices the tears, lifting her head and placing her hand flat on Marie’s stomach, she doesn't seem alarmed at all. She lifts her hand and wipes at Marie’s tears with her thumb, and then she kisses her again, more intentionally than before. 

“We’re okay,” Kacey says, and Marie believes her. The next wave of tears is on the back of that realization. They're okay, Kacey still loves her, and in a year they'll wake up together every morning. If Marie is lucky it'll be for the rest of their lives. 

It's difficult to process that with Kacey’s hand stroking along her stomach and ribs again. Kacey lifts her hand just before things get interesting, and Marie is about to protest when Kacey rocks her hips purposefully into Marie’s. They’re both still in their underwear, but the pressure is significant, and Kacey holding onto her, their bodies moving together, is all that Marie has wanted since the first fight. She knocks her heels against the back of Kacey’s thighs to egg her on, but Kacey doesn’t listen. She rolls her hips again, but slowly, still, and everything burns.

Kacey feels it, too. She pants against Marie’s cheek, her open mouth pressing to Marie’s jaw before she leans back far enough to make a mark there, and Marie moans the second that Kacey’s teeth hit her skin. That seems to be the trick to encouraging Kacey tonight, because she redoubles her efforts, and the more Marie lets herself react, the further Kacey travels. Marie is writhing and groaning by the time Kacey has finished with her neck and throat, and when Kacey sits back to look it over, her eyes are dark.

Marie has never felt claimed before. She’s never _wanted_ to before. But the way Kacey looks at the marks on her neck and throat, for a moment, Marie needs it.

She needs Kacey. She can’t say so, but Kacey knows her well enough to know it. Kacey tugs Marie’s underwear down over her hips, and Marie kicks them away. Marie is expecting Kacey’s fingers, but she doesn’t get what she wants right away. Instead Kacey slides back along the bed, kissing Marie’s stomach and taking the time to suck another bruise against Marie’s hipbone this time. Marie whines, and she can’t even be embarrassed about it. Kacey wants to take her time, and Marie just wants to be touched.

Kacey’s hands skim over her legs, from her thighs to her calves and back up. When Kacey exhales against her, Marie shudders. She knows she’s unlikely to get off without Kacey’s fingers, but this--

She’s not going to complain.

Kacey glances up at her before she does anything else. Marie props herself up on her elbows to make better eye contact, her heart thudding in her chest. Kacey presses a fervent kiss to Marie’s inner thigh, and then she wraps her arms around both and pulls Marie to her mouth.

“Fuck,” Marie gasps, but Kacey doesn’t let up. As desperate as Marie is, Kacey is more so, like she’s wanted nothing more than this. Marie drops her head back against the bed again, reaching blindly for Kacey and threading their fingers together. With her other hand she sweeps the hair out of Kacey’s face, and Kacey looks up at her, keeping her lips and tongue too soft to do Marie much good. It’s driving her crazy enough for her to be writhing a little bit, and she knows that’s exactly what Kacey wants.

Marie is already closer than she thought she could be. Kacey holds onto her while her hips move, and stays with the motion, her mouth never leaving Marie. She’s always been good at this, but tonight is something else entirely. Like a woman possessed, Kacey doesn’t let up, doesn’t pull away for a full breath, until Marie is shaking with exertion, digging her heels into the bed, trying to urge herself along. It’s still not going to be quite enough. Enough isn’t the word. It’s not the right kind of pressure. She wants kacey to flip her over and make her hurt for it, but she knows it won’t happen that way. Kacey will want to see her face. 

_I want to see you._

“Please,” Marie murmurs, and Kacey makes a surprised noise without lifting her head. Marie gasps, but Kacey has only shifted enough to add her fingers without letting up with her mouth, and the only thing keeping Marie tethered is Kacey’s grip on her hand bruising her knuckles. Even that isn’t enough after a few seconds or minutes or however long it is, but Marie can’t tell how long it is before she groans out loud, half Kacey’s name and half incoherent. She’s afraid she’s going to hurt Kacey, the way her thighs are clamping down against Kacey’s shoulders, but Kacey is unbothered and she doesn’t stop and neither does Marie, who is finally out of control for the first time in forever, letting Kacey be the thing that holds her down when she comes. 

When she gets too twitchy, she reaches down for Kacey, her fingertips pressed against Kacey’s cheek. Kacey lifts her head and rests her chin against Marie’s hipbone and watches her breathe while Marie strokes her hand through Kacey’s hair. They don’t have to speak. For the first time it doesn’t feel like Marie is cheating by staying quiet.

They have a million questions to answer, starting with what’s going to happen in the morning. They’ll have to figure out how to tell people, when and where they’re going to find their way back to each other, how to maneuver around each other until and during the Olympics. Marie still isn’t sure exactly how any of that is going to work, but none of those are questions that feel urgent. The only urgent question was--and is--how they’re going to be able to be together after everything, and they’ve already answered that. It works, the same way it always did. Marie’s relieved she didn’t break that, whatever it is. Some part of her, as she rolls them over so that she can kiss Kacey again and settle between her knees, knows that nothing she could do would destroy this, and for not, maybe forever, that will be enough.


End file.
